“When is that jackass journalist coming by for his exclusive?” I ask Reed and Mads.
Reed scoffs and settles back, long arm draping over the back of the couch. “Fucking creeper,” he mutters. “I still can’t believeI had to give him that just so he wouldn’t print what he provoked Wren to say.”
“This is one of my favorite stories,” Mads says.
“What happened?” Gemma asks as she joins us and sits on the back of the couch.
“Wren got pissed in the first interview we did together when he suggested that Wren would try to change who I was just because we were dating. She told him that if she wanted to put a leash on me, it’d be in the bedroom, not on the stage,” Reed explains.
“And that’s when Reed fell in love with her,” Zeb taunts.
“The pet play makes sense now,” Gemma says jokingly.
Reed beams at her. “You get it.”
I chuckle and start to stand, Zeb following.
“You ready for this?” he asks, stretching his arms.
“Hell yeah. I need to put a bra on, though,” I say, moving around the couch. “The last time you punched my tit and nearly tore the ring out of it.”
“Party foul, dude,” Reed says.
“That’s cold,” Mads agrees.
“It was an accident,” Zeb argues. “She let her guard down.”
Gemma smirks at me as I pass her and pause at my bag. I’m still facing the windows when I remove Zeb’s horror movie hoodie. I know it’s her gaze I feel as I pull on my padded sports bra and a snug t-shirt to cover the damn hickey on my shoulder.
“Shotgun,” I say to Zeb, sneaking a look at Gemma.
I resist sucking in a breath at the sight of her hazel eyes wandering deliberately over me.
“Killer,” he says with a smirk. “Ready? Gem?”
“Whenever you are,” she replies as our eyes meet.
After touching base with Kade and Liam, Gemma escorts us out front. She has a dark red SUV parked by the curb with a ticket on the windshield from when the meter ran out. Gemmatears it off, crumples it up, and throws it into the wastebasket on the sidewalk without bothering to look at it.
“Bold,” I say.
“I have a permit,” she says.
“What kind of permit?” I ask.
“The kind that lets me do whatever the fuck I want,” she replies as she opens the door for me.
I eye her, smiling coyly as I say, “Chivalrous,” just to keep things as cool and casual as possible.
“You’re not going to open my door?” Zeb asks her when my door clicks shut.
Gemma glances his way. “You’re not as pretty as her.”
“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, opening his own door. “I thought I was at least a contender.”
“Hm… not quite,” she jokes. Her bright hazel eyes skirt to me one more time before she circles the SUV to get in the driver’s seat.
This is really good for me.
